The holiday of the day is Purim, the celebration of the survival of the Jews in an ancient land when the Jews were able to escape genocide by the evil chief minster to the King, named Haman. We read from the Book of Esther a section known as the Magilla. King Ahasveros ruled a huge kingdom from today’s Iran to Libya. The king divorced his wife for leaning a little toward the feminist side, scowered the land for a new bride, and remarried a beautiful woman who happened to be Jewish, named Esther.
It seemed that all bowed before the powerful Haman except for a relative of Esther, named Mordechai. Haman subsequently ordered the deaths of Mordechai and all of the Jews on a specific date in the future. The king allowed Haman’s decree and just assumed it was an acceptable act. He did not know his wife was a Jew. Nor, did he really know anything about the Jews. Haman had his men travel throughout the kingdom to tell of the decree of the death of the Jews. The plans were set.
When Mordechai told his cousin about the decree, Esther was stricken with grief and fasted for three days. He asked her to request the King use his power to stop the death order. A queen not obeying a king or approaching him without permission was a major offense in those times. Esther knew the risks. King Ahasveros asked his wife why she was so sad while they attended a ball. She told him that the people that Haman was to execute were her people, the Jews. The king then went into action and had Haman and all ten of his sons hung by their necks until they were dead, dead, dead. Then, the Jews went around killing all of the followers and workers that had worked for Haman. It was a slaughter.
So, it’s a children’s holiday where kids dress up like the characters in the story with special foods, costumes, songs; the works. Streets close down for parades, carnivals, and costume parties that rival Halloween. When the Magilla (the story) is read, everyone is to make noise and boo to drown out the name of Haman when his name is mentioned. For grownups, it is considered a mitzvah (a duty) to get so drunk on wine during this holiday that you can’t tell the difference between Mordechai and the evil Haman. The story is considered a miracle and the Jews celebrate that the Jewish nation was not completely wiped out. …or something like that.
My Hebrew school had a half day of studies and then proceeded to throw an impressive Purim bash, minus the wine. Klezmer music, Hamentaschen, performances, dancing were the fares and everyone dressed like a Halloween party. The klezmer band came into each classroom to lead us to the party. On the stage, an abbreviated Magilla was read in Hebrew, then English, then Russian. The readers were dramatic as the crowed billowed at the name of Haman. Students participated in song, dance, and musical performances. It was how I remember Purim and how I would like to see the people of Israel.
These were new people here, learning the language and culture with ideals of a great nation to stand before the world. The 250 or so students in the room were from at least 75 countries. There were new fresh people; beautiful people. Half were not Jewish. They were beautiful women that met their Israeli boyfriends while travelling in India, Nepal, Thailand, or Peru and have now moving in with them in Tel Aviv. Great eye candy but all are locked down.
Israel, like the USA, IS a country of refugees where most have few relatives beyond their grandparents that were born here. They were forced to come from Europe, African and Asia. Some just came because they lived without freedom. Some came from the Americas or Australia out of religious convictions. Others, like me, were drawn to the chance to take part in creating a great country, albeit tiny, that lives by a higher moral standard, while there is still a chance. It was pleasure to see an authentic multi-cultural adult secular celebration in a time when the more experienced citizens have grown cynical, weary, bitter, and often resigned to the complex struggles of the region. I fought back tears at the melancholy feelings that were touched by joy of the holiday. Can a man sit by himself in a crowd wearing a funny hat while watching a Georgian pianist accompany a Quebec fiddler with tears running down his face? I remembered learning of and celebrating this holiday as a child in my tiny Winston-Salem community of 135 Jewish families.
As the crowd laughed, sang, and applauded the show, I couldn’t help but notice where I was in relation to the refugees here that were living crammed into the overcrowded dungeon-like rooms, some of their families dead or also dependant on the minimalist donations of the others in strange lands. I also thought of my friends lifestyles in the USA with mansions and BMW’s. I am glad I have followed my heart and not my head this time. I relaxed and enjoyed being in the moment.
Randy
It seemed that all bowed before the powerful Haman except for a relative of Esther, named Mordechai. Haman subsequently ordered the deaths of Mordechai and all of the Jews on a specific date in the future. The king allowed Haman’s decree and just assumed it was an acceptable act. He did not know his wife was a Jew. Nor, did he really know anything about the Jews. Haman had his men travel throughout the kingdom to tell of the decree of the death of the Jews. The plans were set.
When Mordechai told his cousin about the decree, Esther was stricken with grief and fasted for three days. He asked her to request the King use his power to stop the death order. A queen not obeying a king or approaching him without permission was a major offense in those times. Esther knew the risks. King Ahasveros asked his wife why she was so sad while they attended a ball. She told him that the people that Haman was to execute were her people, the Jews. The king then went into action and had Haman and all ten of his sons hung by their necks until they were dead, dead, dead. Then, the Jews went around killing all of the followers and workers that had worked for Haman. It was a slaughter.
So, it’s a children’s holiday where kids dress up like the characters in the story with special foods, costumes, songs; the works. Streets close down for parades, carnivals, and costume parties that rival Halloween. When the Magilla (the story) is read, everyone is to make noise and boo to drown out the name of Haman when his name is mentioned. For grownups, it is considered a mitzvah (a duty) to get so drunk on wine during this holiday that you can’t tell the difference between Mordechai and the evil Haman. The story is considered a miracle and the Jews celebrate that the Jewish nation was not completely wiped out. …or something like that.
My Hebrew school had a half day of studies and then proceeded to throw an impressive Purim bash, minus the wine. Klezmer music, Hamentaschen, performances, dancing were the fares and everyone dressed like a Halloween party. The klezmer band came into each classroom to lead us to the party. On the stage, an abbreviated Magilla was read in Hebrew, then English, then Russian. The readers were dramatic as the crowed billowed at the name of Haman. Students participated in song, dance, and musical performances. It was how I remember Purim and how I would like to see the people of Israel.
These were new people here, learning the language and culture with ideals of a great nation to stand before the world. The 250 or so students in the room were from at least 75 countries. There were new fresh people; beautiful people. Half were not Jewish. They were beautiful women that met their Israeli boyfriends while travelling in India, Nepal, Thailand, or Peru and have now moving in with them in Tel Aviv. Great eye candy but all are locked down.
Israel, like the USA, IS a country of refugees where most have few relatives beyond their grandparents that were born here. They were forced to come from Europe, African and Asia. Some just came because they lived without freedom. Some came from the Americas or Australia out of religious convictions. Others, like me, were drawn to the chance to take part in creating a great country, albeit tiny, that lives by a higher moral standard, while there is still a chance. It was pleasure to see an authentic multi-cultural adult secular celebration in a time when the more experienced citizens have grown cynical, weary, bitter, and often resigned to the complex struggles of the region. I fought back tears at the melancholy feelings that were touched by joy of the holiday. Can a man sit by himself in a crowd wearing a funny hat while watching a Georgian pianist accompany a Quebec fiddler with tears running down his face? I remembered learning of and celebrating this holiday as a child in my tiny Winston-Salem community of 135 Jewish families.
As the crowd laughed, sang, and applauded the show, I couldn’t help but notice where I was in relation to the refugees here that were living crammed into the overcrowded dungeon-like rooms, some of their families dead or also dependant on the minimalist donations of the others in strange lands. I also thought of my friends lifestyles in the USA with mansions and BMW’s. I am glad I have followed my heart and not my head this time. I relaxed and enjoyed being in the moment.
Randy
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1 comment:
Ran-man,
Enjoyed reading your blog. Miss you much,
Hammy
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